


all i had to do

by stupidloud (beetime)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: "all i had to do was hold him", Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Clint Dies in the Snap and Bucky Lives, M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Steve and Bucky on Vormir, Tony Doesnt Die, Well - Freeform, but - Freeform, but also Well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-08 10:49:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19105585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetime/pseuds/stupidloud
Summary: The second Schmidt says it—a soul for a soul—Bucky’s running toward the cliff’s edge.✪steve and bucky go to vormir





	1. ill find you

**Author's Note:**

> this first chapters also on [twitter](https://twitter.com/buckscxp/status/1129217102622146560) n i wasnt really gonna expand on it but i got inspo when [this tweet](https://twitter.com/616buck/status/1135080313929883648) reminded me abt the "all i had to do was hold him" n here we are. just a quick little passion project mid fix-it

The second Schmidt says it— _a soul for a soul_ —Bucky’s running toward the cliff’s edge.

Steve’s only a second behind but it’s enough, Bucky’s got the upperhand, if he just—

Steve fucking _tackles_ him, of course he tackles him, and Bucky’s hand grapples for the give of the rock, just inches away, and Steve yells, “what the hell are you _doing_ —“

“’S gotta be one of us Steve, it ain’t aboutta be _you_ ,” Bucky grunts back and manages to kick him off but Steve, with his goddamn miraculous reflexes, uses the momentum to roll to his feet, taking a single sprinting step forward before Bucky trips him over.

He pushes himself up and falls in a hard sit on Steve’s stomach, pressing his left hand into the star on his chest, his right forearm against his throat.

_not snap just pass out. just pass out, safe and unconscious and i can—_

“Buck,” Steve gasps, grappling at his arm. “Bucky, _please_ —“

Bucky knows he’s a little desperate, a little wild, “Tell me you won’t fling yourself off first thing if I let you go. Tell me that and I’ll hold off, we can say our goodbyes, right here, like this, and I'll go. but if you ain’t, neither am I.”

Steve nods and Bucky eases up because _he’s_ a goddamn _idiot_ , the second Steve can get a breath in he’s got Bucky on his back, giving him a view of his own. Shit, shit, _shit_ —

He swears and swears and it’s all the panic, the—the rise of fuck _, no_ , _nonononono_ —

He catches the shield’s harness. the one time in his entire life he’s heavenly grateful for the damn shield.

 _Yanks_ back with all the strength the arm Shuri gave him can muster and Steve doesn’t even make a noise, stumbling back and falling with a hard _thunk_ of his head on the ground.

It should. it should have him down for the count long enough. Bucky stumbles back himself, eyes stinging, the heel of his boot slipping on the edge so the rock crumbles and he gets out, "I love you, Stevie—"

He's falling. For three seconds he falls, so many memories, of cold, just like this, of terror, just like this—

Of Steve reaching for him, just like this—

Steve succeeding though. Steve _careening_ off the side and _slamming_ into the cliff face with one hand—

Steve's head whips down from looking up, shaking, shaking, denial, denial, “I'll go down with you. I will. Bucky—“

“Then who the hell’ll bring back the stone, genius? Schmidt?” Ge chokes on a bad impression of a laugh, “I was supposed to die way back when Stevie, you know that. Y-You know this ‘s how it’s supposed to be. After everything. After. Please. Let go. Move on, you have a family—“

 “ _We,_ ” Steve says through his teeth, eyes squeezing shut for a second before opening, so blue, so heartbroken, like cracked pieces of opal, “ _we_ have a family, Buck, a-and it’s not my family, _not without you_.”

Bucky feels another sharp stab of pain down his shoulder, into the very heart of him, and he doesn’t look away, he can’t, Christ, ‘course he can’t, he’s not sure why he’s memorizing Steve’s face so meticulously when he’s the one taking the dive, this time.

(those eyelashes like an entire wingspan, the notch in his left eyebrow, that beak of a nose, broken, and broken, but still easily one of Bucky’s favorite things about him)

He wants to reach up and brush the tears off his face but he’s. Tired. He’s so, so tired and it hurts so much.

“Stevie, _please_.”

He can barely breathe anymore. He’s not sure if it’s this place, if it’s the fact that he’s already dying.

“Please. let go. You’ll be fine. You’ll be alright. This is the end of our line right here, pal. For the greater good. For universes and universes of good. Sweetheart, _please_ ,” his voice cracks, Steve’s horrified, “let me do this good. Let me do this.”

Steve's hold only tightens, "I can't. I can't. I just got you back. I just got you back, honey, c'mon. I can't lose you again, not like this, _I_ _can’t just let you fall again_ —

"You have to," Bucky whispers. Because he does, and Steve knows it. There's no way both of them are getting back up, not with Bucky unwilling.

And he is. Unwilling. This is the one thing he'll ever refuse Steve. It breaks his chest clean in two.

"Live your life, Stevie," he says and Steve flinches, his hand tightens to the point that it has to bruise—

—not that that'll matter—

—so Bucky holds him back, strokes shaking, numb fingers against the inside of Steve's wrist, "Don't blame yourself. Please don't fucking do that. I chose this." He never thought he'd have the choice in how he'd go. it's morbidly comforting.

"Tell Sam and Natalia I love them. Tell— Tell Stark I'm sorry. Tell Shuri a-and T'Challa—"

Steve makes the most awful noise but he nods and fuck, Bucky never thought he'd live to see the day Steve _gave up_. It hurts. It hurts more than this. He doesn't let it show, at least he doesn't think so.

"I'm sorry." He forces his voice to steady, forces himself to look up and make his last few breaths for Stevie, so— so he knows—

"I love you. I can't even remember a time I didn't— which has nothing to do with the brain damage—"

He doesn't know what possesses him to make the joke but Steve's next shuddering breath could be a laugh.

"Since I met you. Since you were five four and all fire, made of the same thing keeping my heart pumping, since you followed me into a warzone and did it again and again, _found_ me again and again, since I knew nothing and no one but _I_ _knew you.”_

Bucky presses his thumb into Steve's pulse. loud. erratic. "Strong," he says, "like you. Like you have to be. We've held each other for so long, Stevie. I'd never— I never wanted to—"

It's getting harder to breathe and he doesn't know why. He can barely keep his eyes open and he's feeling number than when he'd come out of cryo. His cue, then.

"I never wanted to ask you to let go. but you _have_ to, sweetheart. Know always, no matter where I go after this, I'll love you. I love you. Know that and let me go."

Bucky lets his hand loosen. His sleeve's slowly slipping from Steve's grasp.

Steve doesn't hold on to it despite the deep cuts of sorrow in every line of his face. He chokes out, "I'll find you. I swear to god I'll find you again, Buck. I swear."

"I don't doubt you. never have. not starting now. too late in the game to start now, I think," and it's the last time he'll make his guy laugh, terrible as it is. Bucky feels himself slipping, really. Himself, as a person. Going away, piece by piece.

He says it one more time, because he'll be damned if his last words won't be, "I love you, Stevie."

Steve breathes and Bucky knows that with everybody— with their family— he'll be okay.

"I love you," Steve says, loud and grief-stricken, and Bucky clutches the dog tags around his throat and falls.


	2. here i am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> steve wields the gauntlet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some dialogue from endgame obvi but i edited a few parts for flow special thanks to kaia kai n ishie for reading this over so i knew it was readable dfjjnerjf

He drops the Soul stone on the platform. Drops the stone. Drops to his knees. It skitters to the center, like a piece of amber with the bug trapped inside come to life.

Natasha touches his shoulder, his hair, kneels beside him, but Tony speaks.

“Steve, where’s Barnes?”

All he can feel is Bucky’s hand slipping out of his. All he can feel is _letting go, letting go, God, I let him go—_

His hands are shaking. He dislocated one of his wrists, knows it popped out of the socket when he got a grip on the edge of the cliff to suspend them. He can barely feel it though.

He can’t feel. Anything. Just the absence—

The absence—

He fits his fingers over the bruises left by Bucky’s hand grabbing his, palm to knuckle, lifts the hand to his lips, presses it over his mouth.

They’re talking around him. Muffled. Steve doesn’t realize until Natasha is right in front of him, face pale, pale, touching his cheek.

“Steve? Steve, what happened?”

Steve feels his name but he doesn’t say it. He forms the word and it’s like muscle memory, instinct, Bucky’s name on his lips.

Nebula tells them. Steve has the vague notion she does, at least, because her voice registers and someone gasps

There’s silence.

 

He’s herded to his room. There’s no other word except for _herded_ , because he sure is walking but it takes Thor and Nat to get him there.

“I’ve got him,” Nat says.

Thor puts a hand on his arm. Maybe.

The door closes. He’s in his room. His room. Their room. It was—It’d been—

—Bucky’s jacket thrown over the chair, Bucky’s hair ties strewn over the desk, Bucky’s kimoyo beads on the bed—

_He’d stumbled off the train, Morita and Dum Dum keeping him upright when he landed, and they kept asking where the Sergeant was, Cap, Rogers, where’s Barnes, Cap, where’s Bucky—_

Shit, he’s on the floor again. He’s on the floor and Nat’s in front of him and for a second he thinks he never even moved from the platform.

“Steve,” Nat says, breath hitching, and he has to pull himself together, it’s not just him, he’s not the only one losing him.

“I felt it,” he manages, pressing into the bruises, five fingers, five points of contact, it’d been five, then four, then two, then Bucky was _falling, Steve let him fall._ “I felt it. I didn’t feel it the first time, but I felt it now.”

Natasha’s hand tightens—In his, oh, she’s holding his hand, keeping them apart so he’s not digging into the bruises anymore, “Felt what, Steve?”

“Felt him die.”

He had. A vital thing ripped out of him, left a terrible emptiness behind.

It’d fallen with Bucky.

“I felt him die—I-I let him—I had him right there, right there, I could’ve—“

He falls into her, can’t control anything because maybe that vital thing was vital for a reason. He’s never felt more out of place in this fucking body.

She hugs an arm around his shoulders, presses her face into his hair, shaking her head, “Steve, Steve, it’s not your fault.”

He clutches back at her, sobs, “ _All I had to do was hold him.”_

_Just like he had to in the forties, in 2017, but he didn’t, and now—_

_Now—_

_He's too late—_

Nat doesn’t say anything. She holds him tight and runs a hand through his hair and holds him and holds him and holds him together but he falls apart anyway.

 

They regroup outside on the lake. Steve can’t find it in himself to care that there’re still tears dripping down his face, sitting down heavily. Nobody speaks.

“Did he have anyone else?” Tony asks. He gives Steve this sad, sad look. They’d gotten close over the month they planned everything after hashing their problems out, Bucky and Tony. Never a moment their heads weren’t together, finding new fantastic ways to make fun of Steve.

Steve shakes his head, “Just me. Just us.”

Thor turns slowly on his heel from where he’d been looking out over the lake, “What?”

Tony says, “I asked him a question.”

He scoffs and looks between all of them, half-wild, “Yeah, you're acting like he's dead. Why are we acting like he’s dead?”

_I felt it. I felt it._

“We have the stones, right?” He focuses in on Steve, motioning with his hands, “As long as we have the stones, Cap, we can bring him back, isn't that right? So stop this shit. We're the Avengers, get it _together_.”

“We’re not bringing him back,” Steve cuts in, and maybe at one point it would’ve been sharper, but he’d dulled by his grief. He meets Thor’s mismatched eyes warily when the look he’d been giving Steve turns incredulous. “We can’t. We can’t.”

Thor comes closer, sits beside him, an arm around his shoulders, “Steve, I’m sorry, I know you’re grieving. I know what this is like. I know losing a loved one like that—“ He swallows hard, jostling Steve’s shoulders a little, “But we’re talking about space magic. And _can't_ seems very definitive, don't you think?

Natasha’s voice drifts from behind him, “Thor, he fell for the Stone. He wasn’t dusted like the others, and maybe we don’t understand a lot about how this works, but something like that…”

Thor looks back at her, “Now that's my point.”

“Thor.”

He pulls back a bit to look at Steve, helpless. 

Steve finally cleans off his face, dropping his hands back down to hang between his legs, “He’s not coming back. It can’t be undone. The… keeper. Of the Stone. Put it clearly: it’s a soul for a soul. See how much someone’s willing to sacrifice for—“

_A stupid stone, that’s what Bucky was worth, a stupid—_

“He was willing to give himself for this. For that goddamned stone. If I could’ve helped it, it would’ve been me,” Thor stiffens and Bruce lifts his head along with Tony, “but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything. I had to let him.”

Thor stares. And stares. He starts shaking his head but Bruce is there in an instant with a hand on _his_ shoulder.

“He’s not coming back. So we have to make it worth it.” Bruce nods at him. He looks resolute, determined. “We have to.”

“We will,” Tony says loudly with the same edge.

“We will,” Natasha repeats.

Steve only notices he’s clutching at his dog tags then. He breathes. Stands up slowly, shakily.

“We will.”

 

Bruce snaps his fingers.

The compound’s destroyed.

 

Tony wakes him up, brings him back to life, more like, because Steve feels like he hadn’t been breathing a second ago.

“Come on, buddy. Wake up.” He knocks Steve’s forehead lightly and Steve gasps, sitting up. There’s dust in the air, debris under him. Tony grins and holds the shield up, “That’s my man. You lose this again, I’m keeping it.”

“What happened?” Steve coughs out.

Tony winces, handing over the shield, “We messed with time. It tends to mess back. You’ll see. But speaking about time, we don’t have much.”

He holds a hand out and the wrist of the suit makes a noise of exhalation, snapping off a circlet of metal that Steve catches on instinct.

“I already gave Thor the other one. I made five, but I can’t find Nat and I’m not giving one to Bruce.”

Steve examines it while they walk, “A bracelet?”

“A pocket gauntlet,” Tony says and Steve jerks his head up. He waves Steve off, “Things always go wrong and, looky here, they did. In case. If he gets the gauntlet, _the_ gauntlet, right now, conveniently Thanos-sized after Hulk use, we’re fucked. But the guy isn’t super difficult to pin. We just have to get near him,” he folds a hand over his wrist, “press it, the Stones’ll be drawn to yours. Okay?”

Steve snaps the gauntlet on. It adjusts to fit snugly around his wrist.

“Cap? Steve? You with me?”

“I am,” Steve responds and secures the shield on his arm next. They step up to stand beside Thor. He’s glaring down over the wreckage to the hulking purple motherfucker waiting in the midst of it all.

 **“** What's he been doing?” Tony asks. The suit whirs.

Thor’s hate is palpable in his voice, “Absolutely nothing.”

Steve shifts, feeling Captain America settle over him like a second skin. “You’re sure we don’t know where the Stones are?”

Tony motions, “Somewhere under all this. All I know is he doesn't have them.”

The thing about not having been Cap for so long, though, ‘s that now the mantle’s frayed for him. Holes are there that hadn’t been there before and Steve Rogers’s there too, fuming and less than righteous.

“You know it’s a trap right?” Thor continues with a laughable amount of nonchalance, rolling his shoulders.

“Yeah. And I don't much care.”

“Good.” Steve glances over at the signs of a storm, the glow he hadn’t seen since Wakanda. He holds his arms out and the thunder goes louder, “Just as long we are all in agreement.”

Lightning claps. Thanos lifts his head.

“Let's kill him properly this time.”

 

Steve sees when Strange signals Tony. He sees the single raised finger and he knows, just as well as Tony, because Tony’s face falls and he turns to Thanos.

 _No_ , Steve thinks and makes his decision, because he’d be fucking damned if he was about to let Tony leave his family behind.

Tony’s got the suit and Steve’s on foot but that doesn’t matter. He’s there before Tony and Thanos doesn’t even see him coming because he’d been so focused on Iron Man that it isn’t until Steve’s literally on him, giving a shout as he grapples for the gauntlet that his head whips toward him.

“You,” he hisses and Steve reaches for his own wrist, touches the Stones roughly and _feels them,_ before he’s knocked off.

He rolls, feet over head, landing hard on his knees as he digs his heels in.

Thanos sends him a triumphant smirk before looking back at Tony, holding up the empty gauntlet. At least, Steve can see the emptiness from his angle. Tony pales from his.

“I am… inevitable.”

He snaps his fingers.

Steve doesn’t flinch.

Thanos’ eyes widen a fraction when Tony gives him a shaky, delirious smile. He flips his hand over then whirls to face Steve.

Steve holds the gauntlet up. He’d thought the power of wielding Mjolner was the pinnacle of anything because despite how it felt, the livewire it made of his arm, it was _right_ and he _controlled it._

The Stones aren’t controlled. They invade, take over the flow of all his nerves, his bloodstream. They're on every level of him, down to his fucking atoms.

It hurts.

He brings up his other hand and rips the cowl off his head.

_Look me in the face while I unmake you, motherfucker. I’m aiming for your fucking head._

“And I’m…”

Tony’s nodding over Thanos’ shoulder, giving Steve a shaky salute.

Steve tastes blood when he smiles.

“Steve Rogers.”

He snaps his fingers.

 

He doesn’t remember closing his eyes but he opens them. The sky’s orange, a soft sunset shade of it, and he’s up to his ankles in a foot of standing water.

He’s not hurting anymore. He’s still in his suit and he still feels the dirt itching over his skin, but he’s fine.

He takes a fresh breath. Shifts his feet so the water ripples.

“Stevie?”

And all that fresh air leaves him like a bad asthma attack, because he turns, nearly falling over, and—

The cottage.

Vibrant, the clothesline of robes fluttering in a nonexistent breeze and Bucky’s coming out of it, face a whole gorgeous picture of disbelief.

His hair’s short and both arms are human and he’s _young_ and so, so alive.

“Buck,” Steve sobs out and runs to him. Bucky doesn’t catch him so much as make sure Steve doesn’t barrel him over, both arms around his waist so they crumple to the ground together, water sloshing over them.

God, God, he smells the same, feels the same, Steve buries his face in the crook of his neck, his hands up into his shirt and never wants to let go. Not again. Never again.

“ _I found you_.”

Steve pulls back and kisses him. He tastes the same, too.

“Steve,” Bucky says into his mouth but Steve doesn’t answer, doesn’t want to.

“Steve,” he says again and this time he pulls at him, puts space between them. Looks him over, rubs and down his sides like he could count his ribs like he used to.

He takes Steve’s face in both hands. “It’s too soon. You’re not…”

Steve can’t stop looking at him but he has half the mind to wince.

“Steve, what’d you do?”

Steve presses their foreheads together, speaks carefully, “Thanos had the stones. I got them back.”

Silence. Bucky’s breathing. Bucky’s _breathing_ , Bucky’s heartbeat from where his wrist is pressed against Steve’s ear and he leans into it.

Bucky traces his cheekbones with his thumbs, “You’re not… No, not yet. Oh, but honey, you are. You’re joining me real soon, sweetheart, you weren’t supposed to do that yet.”

He’s sad. Only a little bit angry.

“I was never made aware of what I was _s’pposed_ to do.” Steve mutters. He kisses Bucky one more time chastely, “It was me or Tony. I got selfish. I—Buck, I let you go. I let you fall. And I wasn’t gonna let Morgan grow up without a father, Buck. I couldn’t.

“Course you couldn’t,” Bucky says, voice thick, chasing after Steve’s mouth and making it a proper kiss. “You ornery, brave ass fucker.”

Steve’s eyes flutter shut, “Never saw that as a bad thing, really. You know how I feel ‘bout bullies.”

Bucky bites his bottom lip gently, lets it go. Pulls back again. “Never said it was either.

“I don’t get to keep you just yet.” Steve gives him a confused look and Bucky returns a bittersweet smile, smoothing the wrinkle between his eyebrows out with his thumb, “You’re still… You’ve got goodbyes to say. Then you come, okay?”

Steve nods.

Goodbyes, he gets to have goodbyes.

“Go. I’ll see you in a second, sweetheart.”

“Back ‘atcha, Buck.”

 

He blinks. Falls back against a piece of rubble.

Thanos crumbles in front of him, head bowed. Surrendering.

Little too late there, buddy.

Tony gets to him first, running with a hobble but running none the less. He skids onto his knees, eyes frantic over Steve’s face despite the shaking control over his voice, “Hey, hey. You did it. You did it, man.”

Steve nods. He can’t speak. Well, he can. It’s just gonna take a second. The hurt is so deep it feels like it’s always been there, always woven into his DNA.

Nat brushes the hair off his face and Sam grabs his hand. She kisses his hairline. A tear that isn’t his falls onto his forehead.

“We won,” Nat says, not disguising how she’s crying. She cups his cheek lightly, the one he can’t feel, and Sam squeezes his hand, the one he can.

“This is it, ain’t it?”

Steve doesn’t deny it, how can he? He rasps, “Need another Cap to save the day next time around.”

Sam makes a noise between a snort and a scoff, almost crazed, “God, need another Steve Rogers to—“

Steve lifts their joined hands. Taps the center of Sam’s chest.

Sam’s eyebrows furrow before he gasps. His eyes shine. He nods, suddenly, frantically. “Okay. Okay, brother, I got you.”

“Don’t got a shield to offer. Sorry ‘bout that.”

Nat calls him an idiot in Russian. Sam makes a broken sound.

He feels another hand in his hair, a soft, rumbling voice muttering a prayer he doesn’t understand and knows it’s Thor by the static alongside all of it. Bruce stands at Tony’s side. T’Challa, Shuri, and Okoye crest a hill too far for them to get here in time, he knows, but he nods at them anyway.

“Love you guys,” Steve whispers. He lets his head fall back against Thor’s hand.

“Us too,” Natasha says just as Tony echoes, “We know.”

Steve wants to say _I understand that reference_ but he doesn’t have the strength for it anymore.

“Good job, Brooklyn,” Sam says. His voice breaks.

Steve closes his eyes.

 

He opens them.

Takes a deep breath.

Despite how small he is, it doesn’t rattle like it used to, still sweetly fresh. He touches his chest, his face, looks down at himself.

The jacket, shirt, and jeans are his, but he’d never worn them at this size. It’s strange.

But it feels like him. God, it feels exactly like him. He’s never felt more himself.

“Stevie!”

He turns slowly on his heel.

Buck’s dressed all nice this time, a crisp white shirt with suspenders snapped over it to hold his dress pants up like he was aboutta set them up on another double date with a couple of understanding girls. He’s leaning against the cottage’s doorway, biting his bottom lip with his hands in his pockets as if Steve didn’t know this whole routine of his.

“You found me,” he says, pushes off the doorway.

Steve’s smile barely fits his face. He walks toward Bucky and hauls him in by his suspenders, walking them into the cottage.

**Author's Note:**

> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/buckscxp)


End file.
